Angela was walking down the hall on her way to her own office. Just as she passed Brennan's office door, which was almost completely shut, she heard a moan in a deep male voice and she stopped short. What the…? She craned her neck. The desk was deserted. She looked the other way, toward the couch, but the angle was wrong and she couldn't see anything. Damn, the blinds were closed. Then she heard Brennan's voice and her heart stopped then resumed double time as she grinned with excitement. If what she thought was happening was actually happening, no way was she going to interrupt. But that didn't mean she couldn't eavesdrop for a bit, just to make sure what she thought was happening, was in fact happening.

"Take off your shirt," Brennan commanded, sounding slightly out of breath. Angela clapped a hand over her mouth to contain a squeal. There was a rustle of clothing and the springs in the couch creaked.

A moment later. "Lower," came Booth's voice, soft and husky. "Yeah, ooooh, that's it….harder…mmm-hmm…" he trailed off into a moan of pleasure. More creaking from the couch.

"Wait, I can't reach, turn a bit more…" Brennan said in a low voice. Creak, creak.

"Why haven't we done this before?" Booth asked, breaking off on a breathy groan.

"Because of your inhibitions," Brennan said matter-of-factly. Angela heard a smile in her voice.

"What inhibitions?" Booth asked in what was supposed to be an indignant voice, but came out pretty weak.

Angela could hear the suppressed laughter in her friend's voice. "You're uncomfortable discussing intimacy, so I thought you would be uncomfortable with—"

"I am not!" he protested, his voice a bit stronger, though muffled. He moaned deeply and there was a long pause. "We frequently discuss sex—"

"And every time you get agitated—"

"That's because you always have to apply your damned 'anthropological imperatives'—"

"What do you expect? I'm an anthropologist, that is how I relate to things—"

"Do you suppose, just once, you could relate to the subject as a woman?" Booth asked provocatively. Angela guessed that he had changed position because his voice was louder, clearer.

"Would that make you feel better?" The laughter was gone from Brennan's voice. Uh-oh, Angela thought. Trouble in paradise.

"I don't know. Maybe. Why don't you try it sometime?" he asked, frustration evident in his voice.

Long pause. "I think that would have the opposite effect," came Brennan's cool, logical voice. Come on, Bren, Angela thought. You'regoing to spoil everything

"Why?" Booth asked, a puzzled note in his voice.

Creak. Footsteps. Angela shrank against the wall outside the door. She had to hear this. The footsteps faded as they went away from the door.

"If I did that, it would be difficult to maintain a professional distance," Brennan said in an even voice. Creak, heavier footsteps as Booth left the couch.

"Why is that?" he asked.

"Look, if I keep it clinical, then emotions don't enter into it, and I can maintain the distance necessary to sustain a platonic relationship with you…" Pregnant pause. A deep sigh. "Are we done here? Because I really have to get back to work." Cool. Professional. Distant. Angela wanted to burst into the room and slap some sense into her.

Booth sighed. "Yeah,…uh, thanks for the massage, it helped a lot," he said. A rustle of clothing indicated he was pulling his shirt back on.

Massage? Angela straightened from the wall, disappointed. It seems she had overheard Brennan giving Booth a massage, nothing more. Still, if she was any judge of vocal nuances—and face it, she was the queen of that--these two were on the brink. She hurried on down the hall, her hopes higher than they'd ever been. It was just a matter of time, she thought excitedly.

Shall I continue? C'mon, click the little blue button and tell me what you think.